Dead Space: Recoil Long Chapters
by Shattering Chadwick
Summary: The result of BOREDOM and DEAD SPACE joy. The Ishimura visit: everything in Excruciating detail... and VERY long chapters. If its enjoyed enough maybe I'll add more, heck, maybe this shouldn't be rated TEEN either. Oh well, R&R if you would like to.
1. Chapter 1: Grave Beginnings

Dead Space

Chapter One: **G**rave Beginnings

Isaac Clarke, Engineering and Ship systems specialist; regardless of his own thoughts he was a well respected and strong asset to the large scale business mogul CEC.

Admittedly the dark haired man felt somewhat out of place aboard the interstellar vessel. Amidst this current crew of five he was the eldest. Considering his age though, it was amazing how regular stasis procedures kept him looking as youthful as he did. Isaac's round yet strongly structured face surveyed the innards of the USG _Kellion_. It was standard fare, no visible luxuries; just the bare necessities needed of a repair voyage.

Isaac, much like his own reflective thoughts, was a man of standard build. Just shy of six feet he was plagued with a past of slouching, hiding his true height. His black hair was kept in a constant state close to the scalp in a buzzed fashion and as a man of little offered words his brow was usually locked in an endless furrow of determination.

Now, well into man's 26th century this peculiar amalgamation of a crew made their way through Shockpoint to their destination: the ever proud USG _Ishimura_. With the natural resources of Earth all but depleted humanity sought the stars for refuge. With the leaps in technology achieved throughout the passing centuries people moved beyond the atmosphere literally taking the stars as their own.

Planetcracking was the term given to the procedure of removing and reducing massive tectonics from their home world for a fresh brew of resources. It came to be known as 'Popping the Cork' throughout the Concordance Extraction Corporation (CEC). The _Ishimura_ was this company's pride and joy and now it was on its final Planetcrack in the furthest star system today's technology could accomplish on Aegis in the Cygnus galaxy.

Isaac Clarke sat like an obedient soldier, a solid statue in his rigidly cushioned passenger seat. His eyes flowed over his fellow crewmates. At the bow of the interior manning the helm was the co-pilots consisting of the two men Johnston and Chen, neither of whom Isaac knew much of. Over their shoulders, supported by well toned arms was Zarchary Hammond, the Chief Security Officer along to 'keep the peace' so to speak. He was a no nonsense man of African descent who usually took offense to the most innocent of jests. Clarke had heard the stories of how he'd climbed the ranks within the CEC. He wasn't a backstabber by any means, he simply believed in the 'old school' way of doing things. Then there was Kendra Daniels who sat to his right no more than an arm's length away. Judging from his quick glance she showed only a hint of unsettlement. Her fingers picked at the bottom of her white top. Her character was apparent: small woman with a hefty attitude easily displaced when out of her comfort zone like she was here. Prior to boarding Isaac had learned this was only her third trek off the massive colony of Mars. She was the Computer Specialist of the group, but to Isaac she was his job's lifeblood. She'd be filling him in on the 'where's' and 'when's' of this repair mission.

That was right; they were out, soaring through thousands upon thousands of light years of empty space, to reach the distressed _Ishimura_. At least that was everyone's thoughts but Isaac's. He was making this trip out to be an opportunity to see Nicole. Only he was deathly afraid for her since receiving her last sent message. In the video log it was obvious she was at wit's end. He could hear it in her breaking voice and see it in her oddly forlorn eyes. Desperation had saturated her message.

What made matters worse for the engineer was where their relationship stood when she last left his side. They had hit a rather significant rut, fighting over something so petty. He could have knocked himself a good one when reminiscing about it. There seemed only one resolve left to him, and he'd brought it along with him. A plan he'd constructed and anticipated to carry out upon Nicole's return, Isaac Clarke stared longingly down at his open right hand. An engagement ring, pleasing to the eye, sat nestled in the dark of his palm. After all, a man gaining on his mid-forties had nothing else other than his job. And to Isaac the well paying job was something he could adapt to without, Nicole, however, was not.

He was entranced, somehow, on that little shred of jewelry until a familiar face reeled him back to reality with its sturdy tone.

"Isaac," said Security Officer Hammond. He was glancing subtly over his left shoulder at him never removing himself from behind the pilots. "Our ETA is less than fifteen minutes, you might want to think of suiting up ahead of time. I'm aware of how an engineer's RIG can take quite some time to put on by oneself."

To someone unfamiliar to the man's demeanor it may have sounded like a poise of caring. In fact, it was a declaration of him wanting to get the assigned task done and over with as soon as possible. Clarke didn't even muster a word, simply nodding to the firm figure and went off to a panel that opened at the back of the vessel. There, hanging like tools in a shed were the many components of his RIG, a necessary piece of equipment in any outer space adventure.

Before he even touched the suit he took special precaution to put the ring in a breast pocket of his tight fitting shirt.

First Isaac donned the micro hydraulic lined Kevlar body suit slipping the whole garment over his other clothes. It was more than a snug fit, conforming to the engineer's every muscle and curve. It began just above his jaw line and ended just above his ankles where uncomfortable straps looped under the heels of his feet. Next he followed this with ribs of titanium armor, locking into place, which protected the wearer from things like spewing debris while still allowing the maneuverability necessary in tight spots. When Clarke fitted the metal gloves and boots he was nearly ready. Lastly, there was the iconic engineer helmet with its lit visor for extra sight capabilities. He removed it from its place on the wall but refused to strap it on till they landed, it was a good thing to wear, but its stuffiness was unrivaled.

Nearly ten minutes after Hammond's instruction Isaac Clarke was ready for work. He shut the paneling and lumbered back to his seat, every step thudding like a dropped bag of sand. He sighed under his breath. These suits were so stifling and cumbersome literally taking minutes to get reacquainted with the restricted movements. Back at CEC headquarters they were about to unveil the next line of RIGs. He couldn't wait to try one of those ones on, what with their 'flip helmet' features. Until then he carried the helmet underarm back to his seat where he slumped into it allowing the extra seventy-plus pounds the suit added to impact the seat making Kendra give him a raised brow.

"Comfortable, Isaac?" Hammond asked with a smirk contorting his lips.

The engineer shrugged, the miniature hydraulics hardly inaudible. "As comfortable as I'll get, I think."

Zach returned his gaze back to the bow's bulbous window. "Get ready, everyone, Contact Point in three minutes."

Isaac ignored the officer placing the heavy helmet in his lap and he depressed a button on the underside of his right glove. A holographic image flickered to life hovering a good foot from his face. Meanwhile, Kendra Daniels stood from her seat and closed in on Hammond in anticipation of catching a bird's eye view of the legendary vessel. Back before the engineer a fuzzy display began with a woman's soft face; light colored hair styled to follow her scalp to impeccable detail. Sound poured in after a moment's delay.

"Isaac, it's me. I wish I could talk to you," said the video log. Nicole's last sent video log. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry about _everything_. I wish I could just talk to _someone_. It's all falling apart here I can't believe what's happening."

Isaac scanned the video with great detail as he did the last dozen times he'd played the message. Disregarding the possible annoyance of his crewmates, he'd played it just to hear Nicole's voice and see her face, even if the image was distorted here and there. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Knowing he couldn't was just another pain in his heart. The video continued its replay.

"It's strange… it's the little things—" Before Nicole could get another word off the static overpowered her voice as he reluctantly ended the log. Enveloping Isaac's sight now was Kendra peering over him like a guardian almost. He'd think her attractive if she didn't wear such a smug aura about her.

"How many times have you watched that thing?" the techie asked him. "Guess you really miss her… don't worry, we're almost there. You'll be able to look her up once we're onboard. Sounds like you two have a lot of catching up to do."

He shook his head slowly, almost in a humiliated fashion. Behind both her and Zach flashed the brilliance that was Shockpoint; reality's equivalent to films' hyperspace. The spectacle lit up the inside of the _Kellion_ like a maniacal Christmas decoration. Zach was now looking over his own holographic display, rather than the pilots' shoulders, that turned his features a smudged orange. Suddenly the display disintegrated into thin air as he shut it off and he strode back to his rightful place at the barred window. Moments later the vessel gave a great jostle and they exited their Shockpoint letting radiant light from a far off sun splash over them all. It made Isaac squint.

A field of rubble awaited them. The pieces ranged from pebble size to that of three or four city blocks. (And that was just one side of such a chunk.) Each one piece was jagged. Somewhere beyond that drifting mess was the Planetcracker _Ishimura_, their long awaited destination. When the monstrous icon unleashed itself from behind the garbled mess of rock it was a sight to behold. Five hundred years before then not a single person in their right mind would have thought such a feat possible. Yet here it was, a ship several football fields long gently hovering within the orbit of Aegis VII hauling a titanic hunk of rock beneath it the size of a modern day town and then some. Hammond, as expected, was the first to say a word.

"All right, everyone, we're here—syncing our orbit now."

Kendra waltzed up to the officer's side, her 'high and mighty' attitude making a triumphant debut. "All this trouble over that chunk of rock," she exhaled every syllable a tangible sigh.

"Deep space mining is a lucrative business Ms. Daniels." Just like Zach to fill in the ignorant. "Aegis VII is a goldmine according to prospectors' reports: cobalt, silicon, osmium… now, where is she?"

Isaac rolled his eyes, slackening his head. The mission hadn't even technically begun and these two forces were already butting heads. It was going to be a 'swell' job for the engineer. At least I have Nicole, he thought. Abruptly, Hammond's determined tone came back into the mix.

"There she is we have visual contact."

The engineer rose in his seat despite the weight of the suit trying to suck him back in. Somewhere aboard that construction of steel was his other half. Once more his thoughts were disrupted by the squabbling figureheads.

"So that's the _Ishimura_… impressive," Daniels chided to herself aloud.

Zach made sure to correct her improper addressing of the vessel. "The _**USG**_ _Ishimura_, biggest Planetcracker in her class and it looks like they've already popped the cork."

Simultaneously Clarke and Kendra tilted their heads. To people of their training qualifications something was off about the ship. Kendra declared it before he could.

"Why's it all dark? I don't see any running lights."

On such a fine piece of machinery a total power outage was out of the question. "—the hell?" Isaac muttered. "What do you think; a power grid failure?"

Daniels shrugged. "With all the technicians onboard that should be an impossibility. But I guess we'll soon enough find out."

Hammond instructed Chen to hail the ship and keep distinct distance from the scattered debris.

"USG _Ishimura_, this is the emergency maintenance team of the USG _Kellion_ responding to your distress call. Come in _Ishimura_."

A transmission flared over the frontend speakers. It held no real form as its static infested spatter of sounds echoed throughout the hull. Kendra reminded the three men to boost the signal given its low output. Hammond tried to show his own brainpower by complying in his own right. "Boost the signal," he said. The jumble of noise excelled but it was still indiscernible. "More," he added.

Now Clarke was concerned. Aboard any ship, especially Planetcrackers, a communications blackout was unheard of and the never ending Daniels voiced his reflective thoughts. "You'd think with a thousand people onboard someone would pick up the phone."

As soon as the sentence left her pallet another orange display reeled up, this time before the co-pilots on the consol between them. A visual representation showed the ups and downs of the sounds' pitch. The disturbing voice sounded nearly inhuman to Isaac, but he kept his mouth shut. He was a person that was better seen than heard; at least, that's what he thought.

"It's a busted array like we thought," she said, relieving Johnston's bewildered demeanor. "Sounds like they're having problems with their encoder, you get us down there Isaac and I can fix it… forty-eight hours, max."

Obviously pleased to hear the diagnosis, Hammond gave Kendra a nod, the first agreement they'd had all trip. It would probably be their last as well. With a growing grin painted on his face, the officer ordered the pilots to initiate the docking procedures.

The blue and purplish hues radiated by the _Kellion_'s gravity tethers that helped lock them in toward the incoming _Ishimura_ cascaded on either side of the large display window. Then something happened, something unexpected. Scraps of metal flew past outside as something on the _Kellion_'s hull gave way under great strains of pressure. Every last one of them felt it in their being as they swayed in place.

"Sir, we're off track, we're gonna hit the hull!" Johnston shouted.

Hammond's superior tactical thinking immediately showed itself. "Hit the blast shields! Their guidance tether's damaged, switch to manual now!"

Amidst the sudden chaos Kendra stepped into the officer's face. "Inside the magnetic field, are you insane? Abort!"

"No," Hammond argued, agitated by the fighting in a situation it didn't call for. "We can make it inside. Corporal, I gave you an order!"

Chen brought a gloved hand to an overhead lever and gave it a firm thrust. Instantaneously heavy bulkheads encased the window with a driving slam causing a holographic display of the ship's flight path to come on.

"The field's too strong!" It was the last thing anyone said before all sound heightened to a rumble of discord.

The impact made everything shudder, Isaac nearly falling from his seat. Light overcame every inch of the ships inside and the grinding noise of metal to metal and utter destruction scurried about till their ears were bound to split. Then everything went calm, and dark—sheer dark.

Coughs were the first sign of life. Some grunts followed suit and a distorted light came from the holographic flight display that still shone with a newfound ferocity. As Isaac brought his gaze up to shoulder level he found everyone in their respective places. The co-pilots Chen and Johnston still in their seats, Kendra and Hammond behind them, just now coming to their feet were all in perfectly fine condition, so it appeared to him.

"Is everyone okay?" Zach asked, a whimper bubbling between his words. Before anyone could confirm Daniels jumped headfirst down his throat.

"What—what the hell were you thinking? Were you trying to get us killed?"

Zach stood his ground giving her a piece of his mind and know-how. "I just saved our asses, Ms. Daniels. If we'd aborted at that speed and distance we'd've smashed right into the side of the _Ishimura_."

Kendra shook her head, a hand applied to the bangs of her hair. Hammond now tried to revolve the tensions in the air to those of necessary tasks to get their minds off the impending end they'd just narrowly avoided.

"Now settle down. Let's get to work." He adjusted his sights over to Chen. "Corporal, report."

The pilot responded right away. "I'm not getting any readings for the port booster, and we've lost comms and auto-pilot. It'll take some time to fix."

"Alright, let's get some extra hands from flight deck to help out," Zach said, as reassuringly as he could.

The officer heaved a sigh sliding a flat hand over his bare scalp. It was either something he did when under stress or he was merely removing the sweat. In the meantime, Isaac rose from where he'd been sitting all the while and pulled up the helmet from its place it had found on the perforated metal floor. Knowing what needed to be done he let the heavy helmet fall over him. When it refused to go down any further he pushed the lock feature on the back of it causing a mechanism to lock into the back of the Kevlar suit just under the nape of his neck. He hit another button under his right glove and everything in his immediate sight ignited from his fluorescent-like blue visor. Now Kendra stood inches from the engineer.

The techie laid a hand over the suit's operating device that jutted from the chest of it like a block of finely whittled wood. "Hold still, Isaac, I'm syncing up everyone's RIG with the ship."

Running along every crewmate's spine was a machine that showcased that individual's personal health. It was a jump in technological advancement that almost rivaled the Planetcracker itself.

"Okay, we're done," Daniels continued. She looked over Clarke's shoulder then back over her own to get a look at the other three's RIGs. Upon doing that she fell back to the flats of her feet. Every RIG's spinal display climbed from bottom to top glowing a shade of blue. "Clean bill of health for everyone."

The engineer took the given moment of down time to take a stab at comfort. He twisted at the waist then attempted a couple stretches at the shoulders and neck. The other four made their way past him, Johnston giving Isaac an unsure pass of the eye which he ignored. Zach said something that Isaac didn't pay that much mind to either. Outside the window, the bulkheads having been released, everything had an eerie calm about it. He wondered where Nicole was. Taking a small med pack with him just in case, the man followed his crewmates off the vessel immediately met by licking flames from a sheered mass of the _Kellion_'s outside hull making any further voyage in that direction on the walkway an impossible task.

When he took a right the three men were up ahead fronting the pack. Kendra was a good twenty paces behind them giving what was left of the ship an infuriating look over. "You didn't lose _power_ to the port booster, you _lost_ the port booster."

The five of them inched down the seemingly endless walkway. Even from where their ship sat burning to the one and only available door was easily a couple hundred feet. The slightest sound in such a vast and cavernous place as the hangar was amplified ten, twenty fold. Isaac's metal, stomp-like footfalls were a prime example of this effect.

He swerved past Kendra keeping his pace a steady, brisk walk. In no time he was backing up the other three leaving her trailing.

The group was first welcomed by an automated advertisement video that helped disclose the _Ishimura_'s past with its six decades of service and its Planetcracks ranging well into the thirties. In other words, it was the giant vessel's bragging rights all in caricatured form, and the only one amongst the crew who slowed enough to even give it a glimpse was Isaac.

A few steps further and they'd officially entered the flight foyer. Luggage had been amassed here and strewn almost like rubbish. There was no soul in sight, not a single employee to be seen. That eeriness the engineer had first sensed onboard the _Kellion_ was now mounting ever so higher by the second. No one said a word about it, but the feeling and realization of the situation was there. Taking the lead of the expedition, Zach made the first pass at speech.

"Guess the power's down everywhere. Isaac," he called, motioning with a jerk of his head, "get over here and hack this door pad."

A first since they'd embarked, Isaac chuckled aloud as he approached the thick double doors. "I forgot the age of this place. They still use these old model door pads." He started the procedure following all the basic steps using the door's holographic pad like a keyboard. Though he joked, these doors were still relevant sixty years later, these doors being the original and most primitive. Being the first of their kind opening them took some time. They came to be known as 'Finger Lock' doors.

Upon getting the process finished the door slid open, each half of the double doors slinking back into the walls on either side. Hammond and Clarke were the first two into the next room. First a pitch black abyss, sensors tripped by their movement brought the overhead lights to a brilliant glare lighting every single inch of the room. Once again there had been more luggage tossed about. It was starting to feel like an omen to Isaac. A clearing of his throat made the thought pass and subside.

"Seems like everyone was trying to pack in a hurry." It was Kendra this time to say something. Isaac's stare made a pass at Johnston on the far right who was looking jitterier now. Some people can't take near death experiences very well, he thought. It would've been more humorous if it were so fear inducing.

Zach mentioned security detail making Daniels jump at him again. Either the tension was already beginning to nip at everyone's heels or Isaac just had an unsettling knot in his stomach. Her statement caused a time of thought for Hammond who applied a curled pointer finger over his mouth. When his eyes lifted in thought something caught his attention on the other side of the window panels behind the far wall.

"That security console is still live," he said, pointing to it. "Isaac, log in, see what you can find. Kendra, get that elevator back online."

In retort the dark haired woman threw tense hands on her hips. "Power's dead. I can't!"

The officer met her shout with an equally brooding snap. "Then reroute the damn power!"

For once Kendra showed a sign of submission and turned to face the downed elevator's door popping up a familiar orange holo-display. Right away Hammond felt guilt ridden over his hot temper.

"Look," he started, "if we all cooperate we can figure this out a lot sooner. Just get that computer display up, Isaac."

Saving his ears from another unnecessary bout of attitudes the engineer did as he was told obediently, silently. He trudged to the unlocked door, raising a gloved hand, and sent it sliding open with its motors. He stepped into the arched hall and immediately fell witness to a literal bloodbath.

The crimson fluid was everywhere; the floors, walls, even ceiling. No surface was safe here. Clarke took a step into the mess. It was starting to stick, but it was still semi fresh. The rank odor of death had utterly overrun the small hallway. Isaac flicked a third button on the underside of his right glove opening up his communications radio. It was linked up with all his fellow crew members. "Things just went from bad to worse here, Hammond."

Right away their faces turned to meet his lit visor. Without saying another word he pointed casually to a smeared stain on a pane of glass. Johnston was closest and narrowed his eyes in examination. He nodded to Chen who respectively nodded to Zach.

"Its blood," Johnston said, "and lots of it. Whomever's it is is either bed ridden or… you know."

Hammond gave a subtle nod. The men stood rigid while Kendra, her back now against the same door she'd been trying in vain to unlock.

"Be on guard everyone. I'm switching my rifle's safety off. Anything happens, you two do the same." It was Hammond.

Isaac cautiously inched over to the display showcasing a holo-image of a downscaled _Ishimura_, his thick boots suctioning from the floor all the way. Just what did I get myself into? he thought. What in the world happened? When he activated the display reading 'Damage Report' another thought came rippling into his conscience. Does this have something to do with the luggage out there?

With the display starting its diagnostic nearly every section of the scaled ship went from a calm blue to a fiery red, small text boxes disclosing the received blows. Johnston still at the window, watched from the other side as the blue hologram shifted to red reflecting the surrounding, crimson blood, making him voice his opinion.

"That doesn't look good. She's taken a _lot_ of damage."

Twenty feet behind the pilot Zach started up another exclamation of bad news. "The Tram system's offline, getting around's going to be difficult…" Jumping to life was the ventilation system streaming in fresh air from Hydroponics. Hammond peered to the ceiling vents watching as the once distilled dust fluttered in the artificial breeze. "The air seems to be flowing again, that's a start."

Isaac stood rubbing his suit where his heart beat, or rather, where the ring was nested. Sooner rather than later he'd like the opportunity to meet up with Nicole. But then, without prior warning, that too became a hardship.

First signaled by the ear piercing alarms and circulating lights that turned everything in and out of the lobby a bloody red, a quarantine protocol had been tripped. Right after every nearby window was closed off with a shutter-like shield.

The Chief Security Officer attempted to displace everyone's growing fears by saying it was a simple activation due to the filtration system's reboot. It seemed the group had calmed somewhat until a sudden barrage of ambient sounds rifled throughout the room. It was as if they ruptured from everywhere all at once. Creaks and groans unfamiliar to any vessel reverberated back and forth in the people's ears.

Something snapped over the others inside the Flight Lounge. "What was that? Did you _hear_ that?" Daniels asked, her character altering from tough-as-nails to jumpy in an instant.

A smashing of metal was heard. Because of the sight affecting sirens no visible cause could be seen—not at first. Once again Kendra was the first to realize. Maybe it was her heightened senses. "Something's in the room with us!"

Isaac saw the thing first, then Johnston. Only for Johnston it was too little too late, it was already on top of him.

The engineer threw himself into the glass. "Johnston—behind you!"

Whatever it was sank a long protrusion into the off-guard pilot. He gurgled out nonsensical sounds from to the sheer pain. This impalement was followed by another and another still. He never had the opportunity to undo the safety on his gun. The engineer almost thought the thing was trying to skewer the poor man apart, devour him.

At last the others spotted it but not until Johnston's blood smattered over the glass pane Clarke stood behind. "Open fire, open fire!" cried Hammond. Pulse blasts from both his and Chen's rifles tore the air in half sending out elongated shadows and blinding surges of white light. The enigmatic enemy became a nightmarish silhouette. Only Hammond's shots connected making further blood coat the row of windows. Chen's shots missed entirely splintering several windows with wasted gunfire.

Still the anomaly functioned. Now done with Johnston it made its way toward its next nearest prey… Chen. Panic set in at full swing. The two men kept their rifles up, unloading blast after blast. Both Isaac and Kendra stood by, helpless to make a single action.

"Kendra—power!" Zach reminded the Computer Specialist.

Knowing right away what must be done the hurried, panicked woman fumbled with the elevator's door pad. From such a distance Isaac couldn't justly see the worry consuming her.

Chen was taken out in a flash. The creature's sights now set on the last remaining two. Hammond threw in a new magazine of fresh ammunition, his eyes quickly darting to Daniels' back. "Kendra!" he screamed again, desperation taking him over.

Kendra's mouth fed a line of rushed fear. "Come on, come on!" She looked over her shoulder, behind her more shots rang free. The thing was no more than six feet away now. Then—

"Got it!" she shouted. The door pad's red lock emblem switched to blue and the couple ran in leaving whatever was after them, and bewildered Isaac, behind.

The engineer had found his way to the door, his back against it now. He watched as the creature in the lounge literally leaped in one swift motion up a ventilation shaft. Then metal erupted beside him and he found himself face to face with another one of the adversaries.

"Shit," he managed to grunt. A saving grace came over his radio in the form of Kendra's voice.

"_Isaac, the door's open. Run!_"

As soon as he heard this he turned around as quickly as his suit would allow making the door pad give way with a pass of his hand. He felt a limb come over his shoulder and he elbowed whatever the thing was making it stagger back giving him a golden opportunity to flee. Clarke's Fight-or-Flight response was in full bloom.

Even with the alarm sending out long, distorted buzzes his hefty boots still thudded over the metal floor of the _Ishimura_'s halls. He made a quick right feeling the tension of godforsaken eyes on him the whole way. He made it to a second bend in the hall. The ceiling above him collapsed setting forth a second horror with it. The force knocked him off his sense of balance and he bounced off the wall, pushing off as he did so to regain his running momentum. Behind him still were sickening squeals. They were the calls of predators.

The next segment of hall was a downcast ramp. Isaac reached the bottom nearly stumbling over his own stupid feet. Again it happened—the ceiling failed. As if all odds were against him, a third monster came seeping out from whatever hell it was birthed in. The lone man pressed on more grateful than anything to see through odd, thick smog, the door pad of an elevator. He made a lunge for it, his hand connecting, the door taking a heart attack-igniting amount of time to open.

In that moment Isaac thought nothing of his beloved Nicole. It was strictly survival. Fear had ensnared him in a sick embrace. "Go!" he screamed in agitation at the shuddering doors. One of the things came up on him and slammed him against the doors that had just then begun opening.

A sizzle sounded near his ear, obviously something of electronic nature giving out. It was one of the many reasons he loathed the basic engineer RIG model. Before he could give it any further thought, though, the same creature that had pinned him to the door was now making quick work through the Kevlar to the meat in his neck. Clarke went into a frenzy of blows to try deterring his oppressor. Finally, with all other tactics failed, he gave a sharp backward thrust with his helmet staving the thing's efforts long enough to duck beyond the newly opened doors.

A second one of them tried piling into the machine with Isaac. He brought his right leg up as high as it could causing the micro hydraulics to work with such effort they whined in the process. He then jutted the heavily clad leg out like a piston where it met the monster's sternum with a fleshy pound shoving it back into the other two. The creatures collected in a pile giving him enough time to swipe his hand over the elevator's activation pad and its doors went shut much quicker than they'd opened—irony, how he hated it.

As if malfunctioning, the lift sat idle, the pad flashing red. Not now, he thought. Damn it all, not now.

Twin spears wrenched their way through the doors. The disturbing pursuer was in full view now. The rotting smell of death woofed into his face powerful enough that he could smell it through the helmet's visor plain as day. At last the engineer managed a detailed look at it.

Whatever it was, it had once been human. Tatters of blood encrusted clothes trailed from its lanky body like fingers of seaweed. From its back came its arms, long and intrusive with their bone-like spears that came from—dear God—the palms of their hands! Its skin, what was left, was literally decaying to the point of falling off in patches revealing disheveled tissue beneath. Its head slumped low, like a kangaroo slinking into its mother's pouch. The legs it had were strong, shaped like a bird's almost, with long talon-resembling claws and arms the length of a shinbone groping the empty air from its emaciated stomach. It's most prominent and frightful feature by far; however, were its eyes… they were lifeless and combed with the reaper's cajoling.

Isaac brought his arms up to shield himself as the doors to the lift snapped shut taking the creature out with ease. One of its spiked arms wound up in the elevator with him as it finally began its descent. The appendage writhed with whatever life it had left making the man bring up a boot and slam it down with a mighty stomp made easy, again, through the hydraulics.

Alone and afraid, the engineer Isaac Clarke slowly descended to some hell he knew nothing of yet. How many more waited for him? Where would he be when this ride came to an end? Just where in the hell was Nicole and how was she holding up? He had to tell himself to shut up as he slapped either side of the helmet with his open, gloved hands.

In the dark of the humming lift he could only make out two things. One was his labored, faltering breathing. The other was the one thing in him he wanted to keep going no matter what: his heartbeat.


	2. Chapter 2: Ishimura's Conditions

Dead Space

Chapter Two: **I**shimura's Conditions

The doors of the lift reeled open revealing a disturbed Isaac seated on the floor, back kissing the wall. Every inch of him had unhinged or so he felt. There was countless wonderment circling his conscience without a single answer to latch on to. He began weighing the circumstances at hand.

Out of their five person crew two were already deceased, swatted like flies. Any one, if not all three of the remaining could, and at the moment most likely would be, next. Nicole was somewhere far off. She was resourceful and Isaac had faith in her. Unless all options, all hope had been expended, she'd be fighting. The only thing he could think to do was to press on, praying there was a way to Hammond and Kendra and off this ship. First thing's first, he needed to make sure Nicole was all right.

It took the shaken engineer quite some time to even realize the doors had come undone opening to a moderate sized square room. In its far left corner, enclosed by a widely spaced wall of bars was an employee bench where the only available light was wavering and hissing with escaping power. Some unknown force seemed to beckon him to it.

Abiding by the nonexistent coercion, he struggled to his feet and walked clumsily over to it. Both hands were trembling. He grabbed one with the other attempting to mask the tremors.

Sat in gory semblance was the sadly discarded corpse of an Ishimura crewman. Slathered in blood, to no surprise, pieces of him stripped away, it was obvious that blood loss had been his final verdict. Still overcoming the prior shock, this particular sight encouraged Clarke's retching in the least. His helmet aided in that fact by blocking off the most of the odor the body was ripe enough to relinquish. Upon leaving this life, however, the man had left behind a life saving gift in his place.

Atop the tool bench sat a widely recognized mining tool. Well over a century into its run, was a refurbished, highly versatile 211-V Plasma Cutter, the best Schofield Tools had to offer. Used as a utensil to carve out rock like a blade the Cutter still had little rivals in its department even today. A few minor tweaks by someone in Isaac's line of work would make it capable of projecting its heated energy in concentrated blasts rather than a constant, focused beam.

He picked the tool up altering it to a weapon in the process. He raised it and unloaded a test shot into the wall satisfied with the result. Then he gave the bloody body a good, hard look. Unfortunately, the name on its roughed up uniform was no longer legible.

"Thanks, buddy," Clarke said aloud nonetheless.

He twisted his body but kept his gaze on the wall just above the work bench. There, scrawled hurriedly in the person's own blood was a gruesome message: '_Cut off their limbs_'. Isaac read it to himself as his eyes meticulously followed every sloppy curve. Any sane man would know this wasn't a mere mention in passing, it was a strong matter-of-fact. He made sure not to take the term in vain.

With his free hand he withdrew two refill packs of plasma for later use and zeroed in on his newfound path. It wasn't until he was about to open the door that he heard the screams of agony leaking from the other side.

At first the engineer braced his upper body against a wall overrun by another brisk wave of fear. Once more his breathing worsened. Then he saw the Cutter death gripped in his hand and he discovered a new reproach. There was someone only a few feet away in a fight for their very life. With sweat grasping his whole figured under his suit he went to work on the exposed door fuse. Given their older age he came to recall how much he hated trying to figure this type out.

As the screams of pain and/or fear excelled out there his panic began to intoxicate his very actions. His fingers fumbled with the wires and after more moments than he would have liked, Isaac had had enough.

"Fuck it," he shouted and thrust a gloved hand into the fuse making it explode and fizzle out in an appealing form of sparks. The sudden stop in flow of power made the door short circuit and it slid open letting the carnage pour in.

Before him a blonde man in mechanic's attire was downed, his back to the floor fending off any further attacks with all he had left. Overtop of him was yet another one of the demonic creatures covered from head to toe in its unique repulsiveness.

Right then and there the anonymous man's light faded from his body and he fell motionless, every muscle slackening in a way only the dead could do. Isaac drew in a ragged, sharp breath. Even this petite sound set the monster off, shifting its attention from its fallen prey to its newfound target. As if prepping, the thing raised its arm-length spikes and scrunched on its distorted legs.

In automatic reaction Clarke brought up the Cutter and gave it a good blast of plasma to the thing's cranium knocking it clean off from whatever shoulders it had. Blood, thick and black, oozed over the adjacent walls. It regained its composure and made a second attempt at him. When the engineer fired off another round it sliced the creature's arm in two. Disregarding the fact it no longer had a head, a low, bellowing shriek was uttered from it.

It took one last go at him. Isaac met his attacker with a wide arched drive with his Cutter holding arm. The impact drove it back into the wall where it flopped down in a heap. This time there was no motion to be seen.

"Three tries," he said lowly, nearly distraught over his own exclamation. It had taken the man three tries to down a single one of them—_one_. What if they came in huddled collections, hunted in packs?

He shook his head to rid himself of the deafening thoughts. He'd cross that bridge when, or even if, he came to it. He rubbed the breast of his suit again where the ring still sat cozily. Nicole, I have to think of Nicole right now. I'm sure she needs me.

He needed her too.

Warily but surely, the engineer did as he thought was best; press forward. Through the corridors he went, each as dim lit as the next. Suddenly, he peered at the holo-display of the device's energy cartridge. He'd only fired three shots and already a third of the gauge had depleted. That was impossible, though. Being an engineer Isaac had the common know-how of most tools, including this one. Even when cutting through diamond-tough rock at a constant pace, the Cutter should have a life of no less than three hours per cartridge.

Then surrealism left him and he came to. Since the tool was being implemented as a weapon, _firing _its energy out, it was exceeding its natural threshold as it was. He did the quick arithmetic in his head coming to the end result of roughly ten shots per cartridge.

"Shit…" he sighed. As if the day couldn't be any tougher on him. What he'd first thought was a godsend had the good capability of becoming a liability to him. "I'll just have to snag plenty of plasma along the way, I suppose."

Momentarily he came to a halt leaning on the wall as he did so. A readjustment later changed the meter on the display gauge to an actual numeric value. In the heat of the moment it'd be much easier to know when to reload. Once this was finished he kept the tool raised at all times as he lumbered down the halls where he found a misplaced Audio Log.

"_This is Benson, everybody listen up! They use the vents! That's how they're getting around the ship! Stay away from—,_" in the background of the log someone shouted 'Look out' and with some gunshots and a scream the log came to an abrupt end. It was chilling, but it supplied him with advice. Isaac had to keep eyes on the back of his head now, he knew.

Finally he came to a door, the pad of it unlocked. He swiped his hand and strode in, the Cutter brought to shoulder level, its light illuminating whatever it could in its small circular blaze. The only supplied light was that which lingered in from behind downcast shutters. The contents of the room itself were too difficult to distinguish, but upon entering the room he tripped the motion detector. Just like the Flight Lounge he lights blared on and the shutters retracted.

For a second his heart jumped when he spotted two figures across the way from him. The tension was eased when he focused and saw Hammond and Kendra. The Security Officer gave him a single pass of the hand while the techie nearly jumped like a toddler to get his attention.

Isaac approached the wide window slumping over the console on his hands.

"_Isaac_," said a voice. It was Kendra, short of breath, but fine otherwise. "_Isaac, god, I can't believe he made it_…"

The audio link shortly thereafter was accompanied by a video feed that swaggered all over the place at first before it came to rest on Hammond's facial features.

Zach mentioned them running into more of them, as he had, and asked the engineer if he was okay. Isaac told him he was but he never reacted to his response. Meanwhile, Kendra seemingly settled back into her usual self, considering the circumstance, asking Hammond in a loud, cutting tone if he thought the creatures were what remained of the Planetcracker's workforce.

"_Keep your voice down!_" Hammond ordered. "_Whatever they are they're not friendly and half the doors on the ship are locked because of the quarantine. We have to get to the Bridge, but first we've got to repair the Tram System_."

Kendra was obviously back to herself now. She took this moment to lunge all over Hammond's statement again in an accusatory defiance. "_You're crazy, Hammond. You're going to get us all killed_!"

The officer was gaining on his last nerve with the woman and the fact of that was drenching his own voice. "_If you listen to me I'll get you out of here alive_._ Now, what's wrong with the Tram_?"

The Computer Specialist knew she was defeated here when faced with such tenacity, throwing her arms out to reflect this fact. Taking a few steps away from him Isaac's video link focused on her when she started talking. "_Databoard's fried_…_ there should be a spare in the Maintenance Bay, and there's a broken Tram in the tunnel that needs to be repaired_._ Damn it,_" Kendra's agitation was mounting with every item she listed off. "_Everything's on the other side of this quarantine we can't reach it from here_!" She leaned with her back to the wall and let her head thump against it hard.

Clarke's video refocused to Hammond a second time. "_No WE can't, but YOU can_. _D'you think you'd be up for this_?"

"I guess I'll have to be, huh?" Isaac replied.

Hammond still waited, then his brow bent. "_Isaac, you all right_?" The man's change of pace caught Kendra's attention, and the video link allocated to her as she reentered the conversation in curiosity.

Again Isaac responded but to no reaction from either one of them. Then it hit him. The sizzle of electronics he'd heard when he'd ran for his life not too long ago. When he'd hit the wall at one point it had caused his two-way Comm to break. He could fix it, certainly, but the complexity of even this simple suit design would result in at least an hour just for that. The reason's he hated the cheap 'Level One' engineering RIG so much just seemed to compile ever more. In the end he resolved in tapping the side of his helmet with an outstretched finger.

Kendra nodded in understanding; Zach only shrugged at the engineer, shaking his head at the Computer Specialist from lack of knowledge.

"_His two-way's out, now it's a one-way. He can hear everything we say, but we won't receive anything audible from his end_."

The officer cursed under his breath at the lack of current communication capability. There it went again, his flat hand over his bald scalp. It _was_ something he did when under stress after all. The man blew out a breath and with it enough frustration to resume talking.

"_Isaac, if I can get to the Bridge I should be able to access the personnel files. You fix the Tram, and I'll help you find Nicole_." With a reassuring nod of his head the video feed died out and hummed its final song of static. The holo-display vanished soon after.

Clarke watched the two of them take a well needed seat inside the Tram Station. He needed to catch his breath too, but now wasn't the time. The mere mention of Nicole had brought fire to his lungs aching him to get on with business. He left the long dashboard behind waltzing over to the waiting door where a sign above it read '_Cargo Hallway_'.

He glanced back before activating the door. Either Hammond was actually caring for the emotions of his crew over physical conditions alone, or he knew how to push the engineer's buttons just right. Either way, he embarked for the Tram Repairs room.

Beyond the dingy hall lay a corridor strewn with bright, securing light. He came to an intersection not sure which way to traverse first. He nearly gave himself a good slap. His Locater, of course—it was miraculous he'd forgotten such a useful implement. Isaac lowered his left hand situating his fingers in a certain pattern. Upon recognizing the finger's positions the suit lit up its holographic indicator that was linked to its internal hard drive where the kept coordinates were stored.

The Locater splashed the hall in blue with its finger width beam that raced to the right and disappeared beyond the next corner. There sat yet another door. He was growing wary of these things. He forced it open. Something fell from the overhead pipes.

"Son of—," he cried. A couple blasts of the Cutter dug into the flesh of the silhouette.

He felt stupid. So naïve was his voyage and he was already so jumpy. On the floor, lit only by the Cutter's light was the body of another misfortunate soul. It seemed a trend to him now. The man's epidermis had been peeled away showcasing his pink muscles and uniform stained red. The face was so discernible. Wait—was it Chen?

Isaac slowly trudged past the remains never turning his back in fear of the unexpected. He ignored his thought and kept going.

The following door opened up into the very Tram Lines themselves. A good breeze brushed over him from some place unknown. This same gentle wind fluttered a scene of tossed papers like birds startling him. With so many papers lay about without a care it made him wonder some more of what precisely was going on here? How did these sheets wind up in this state anyway, let alone down here?

In addition, the lines the Trams followed were massive in size. Three Tram cars could easily be stacked top to bottom high in this tunnel system. Another three or even four could be placed side by side width wise. Steam poured up from vents and distorted incoming light from powerful lights that spanned either side of the octagonal shaped tunnel.

Cautiously at first, then as fast as the suit would allow, Isaac ran down the length of the tunnel the Locater recommended to him. Luckily it bypassed a barricade looking wall and straight through the field of papers. They scattered at his feet and made sounds of ripping. The less amount of time he was in here the better to him. There were far too many means of ambush in the Tram tunnel. Especially with the way they seemed to _stream_ from the walls.

Loud metallic crashes resounded. With its consistency it was obvious it wasn't any more of _them_. Then through the wavy steam he could make out the motion of a malfunctioning 'Finger Lock' door. Great, more work, he thought. He nearly made it there when he heard something.

It was reminiscent of a call he would hear on the nature channels back home. He didn't watch all that many but had seen plenty to know that something that loud and long was big, really big. It was high pitch and had a gurgle effect to it. He didn't want to stick around in fear of coming across whatever it was. The very sound it made Isaac could only self-describe as 'sickening'.

At the door lay a third encountered body since he'd been separated. Just out of its reach sat a rather familiar device. He hadn't used them much in his career, only a few times. It was a Stasis Module. Whether used to slow falling debris or a damaged fuse, the module made modern day handiwork so much more efficient.

The engineer fell to a knee and picked it up, first inspecting it to ensure its capability of functioning properly. It slid like a gauntlet over the left forearm of his suit. Depressing a switch on the side of it made a cushion-like cuff shrink onto the suit's arm snuggly. These devices were always a 'one size fits all'.

Instinctively Clarke threw his free hand out again. This time, instead of the Locater, a dispersal of energy, as blue in color as his RIG-life indicator or Locater, encompassed the seizure suffering door and made its limb severing speed slow to a crawl. He walked briskly through with little effort and up another ramp.

Now the man found himself in a claustrophobic array of halls. A good distance away to his right sat a locked door, then to his left the same thing. He heaved a sigh knowing more hacking was to be had soon enough. Following his Locater obediently, Isaac strode down the hall, stopping dead in his tracks when all power to that specific portion suddenly failed.

All was dark.

In the abyss sounded one shallow breath: his own, and he rose the Cutter praying its light would stave off any threats. He jumped when his back hit the wall. He twirled to make sure it wasn't one of them. His heavy metal boots thudded from step after panicky step, his back meeting the opposite wall. Every hair stood on end, every drip of sweat under the suit stuck to him like ice. He'd given up moving entirely.

A loud 'whir' echoed from throughout the vents and the lights came back to their previous brilliance. He was more thankful for backup generators at that point than anything else. With this he reluctantly pushed forward. Seeing that the regaining of power to this section had somehow reset the one door pad he ran to it, right past a bathroom cutoff. For a second he stopped. He could really go for that, honestly, but he just didn't have the time. Like astronauts of the old world his suit had a filtration system for that, even though its efforts lasted only so long.

This door opened up to the Tram Repair center. From the door its set up was like that of a backward, blocky C. On either side were console's to initiate the Tram Repair sequence. A glance let him see a highly devastated Tram on the railway, obviously the blockage that had been previously mentioned. A simple fix, Isaac thought. He approached the first console starting it up. A robotic arm as fat around as his body shot straight out from the level own below where it connected with the Tram; a grasping claw making it possible. It counted down representing its readiness to work.

Clarke ran to the other side and activated that panel as well. The arm extended but failed to grab hold of the Tram. It immediately retracted back into itself. The engineer grunted in dissatisfaction. Chock yet another thing that needs my touch. He rolled his eyes behind the lit visor.

"_Your Stasis Module should be able to help you with that arm mechanism_," chimed Kendra over the Comm.

Like always he did as he was told. When he finally got the repair sequence well underway a crash ruptured from his right. He turned but already in his face was one of the demented creatures, its eyes on fire, everything about it utterly horrifying. He got a shot off but not before its thrusting spear raked over his front tearing away the fabric in a fine line.

The thing guttered something like a roar. Isaac met this with a powerful stomp over its own foot. Bringing it to its knees, he then swung out with another mighty strike of his arm. The monster buckled and crumpled to the floor in defeat.

A feminine voice bellowed from every which way; overhead, under foot, side to side. It was the Ishimura's AI intercom relaying the undertaken function. "_Replacing damaged Tram car, please standby_."

The arms did their task, making off with the busted transit machine, hoisting it to the bowels of the vessel. Thick doors slid shut then back open revealing a second Tram car, this one fully refurbished and ready to roll.

Nearly startling him, the Computer Specialist's face came up on a video display that hovered before him, projecting from his suit's chest plate.

"_Isaac, you did it. The Tram was blocking the whole system. When you get the computer online you'll be able to call the Tram from the Control Room_."

"You're welcome," said Isaac, his voice dripping in a sour concoction of sarcasm and relief. He didn't care they couldn't hear him; he simply felt the need to say it.

With the mentioning of something crawling around their position, Daniels' transmission came to an abrupt, static infested end. He made his way to the door. A loud knock was brought forth beside him.

The engineer stumbled on his feet when another vent came undone. Two of them came slinking out on their haunches, or whatever it was they had. They set their sights on him and zeroed in. The Cutter tore the air apart with Plasma. One shot struck the nearest in its head sending bloody chunks spilling to the grated floor. The next one sent out its distinguishable, nasty cry and charged him.

Acting quickly, Isaac shot its one leg out beneath it. With its balance disorganized it careened into him. They both doubled over. The man made quick to get to his feet. Even without a head, the other thing had recovered and was slowly making its way to him, spears drawn like a nightmarish Mantis.

When the one he'd just fallen wrapped around the calf of his suit he made a spur-of-the-moment decision. His heavy left boot ground into the downed creature, the squeaks of its flesh rippling over the floor, then he gave the incoming one a good knocking with another wide swing. The attack did well to slow its advance, but still it closed the gap.

He brought the Cutter up then, methodically. One well-aimed blast ripped through one of its arms and it fell to the floor in a gory mess. Isaac noticed black shaded tendrils wriggling from where its arm had been severed. He took a step closer for examination.

"—the hell?" he pondered. Another squeal came from the walls catching his attention. He took the opportunity to leave the room behind him.

Back in the forked hall something came. It slithered while it crawled and made sounds as if it were constantly gnawing. It moved through a perforated, vent just up above. The man and the monster were mere feet from one another. It gave him a hard stare—nothing withheld. Dear God, there were more _types_ of these enigmatic things.

Like the other ones it was emaciated, its body shriveled in mid section and by what could be seen along its back its vertebrae sprung out like knobs. What had once been legs were wrapped and bound through muscled skin behind itself like a tail. It opened its mouth to him. He'd never forget the sight. The mouth had four corners, splaying wide open to reveal several rows of gnashing fangs. At least they looked to be fangs.

The monstrosity gave a roar that reverberated throughout the hall, throughout him, and up it dashed through the ceiling, vanquishing itself from further view.

Isaac's heart was pounding. Adrenaline had aided in large part to his survival, but how long would this last? How long _could_ this last? His gloved hand ran down the marred stretch of his suit. The creature hadn't managed to pierce through, but in a suit whose Kevlar had three layers, it had easily shredded through two of them. He needed an upgrade, and he needed it quick.

Back through the malfunctioning door, back in the Tram tunnel he went. As he'd thought, he was ambushed by another speared adversary. Then from the darkness it leapt, the thing with the tail he'd seen only a minute beforehand.

It forced him to his back, digging into and through the suit with ease. It gnarled at his skin, spilling crimson blood out around its nasty mouth. Isaac fought desperately trying in vain to writhe free from its terrible, mad embrace. Finally he managed, booting it off him. He staggered to his feet, recovering the Plasma Cutter from the tunnel floor.

When it came at him a second time his breath caught in the back of this throat. It rushed him, sprinting on its hands! He shot out one of its sickly appendages, then the other. It slithered over the floor, pushing off with its grotesque, whipping tail. All action ceased when a crushing boot fell over its skull.

The engineer panted, both from fatigue and pain and desperation, all the way back to the bright Cargo Hall. At last Kendra came back into the mix informing him of her succession in unlocking the Maintenance Bay entrance. When the audio feed fell silent again he continued on his way following the Locator past the door of the Control Room, but not before utilizing the med pack he'd snagged.

They were literal life savers in the way their Nano-technology mended wounds shut, accelerating blood generation and oxygen output. A small pack wasn't as helpful as the larger kinds, but with the injury he'd sustained it did well to seal it off. The bleeding stopped right away and already the aches were subsiding.

Around the corner he was jumped by one of them playing 'possum' in the middle of the hall. It snagged him at the arm first, pulling him inward. He tried to breakout but was unable. Panic consumed him and he began firing off the Cutter shot after shot into the thing's rotting body. After a few moments of this the confrontation came to an end. Gasping for air Clarke continued on.

Then he was there, outside the Maintenance Bay. This was all very familiar. After all, how could he possibly forget his time aboard this once great ship before? This deck was where he'd first started out on the Ishimura in his early CEC days. Now he was here in a fight for survival.

Isaac unloaded the inserted clip of Plasma energy and replaced it with a fresh cartridge. With thoughts of Nicole swirling in his brain he activated the door pad and walked in.

Grated walkways strayed ahead and off to the right, both to places unknown. In the middle of the room, in complete violation of Planetcracker regulations dangled a gutted Tram without any sort of support. It's swaying caused melancholy knocks and pings of metal throughout the large, double deck room.

Driveling water pattered like dropped marbles over the metal flooring. Sparks spat out from tears in the wall electronics. Only a fraction of the normal lighting still functioned now giving everything in the Bay a creeping feel. Sounds of failing machinery only aided to the horror of this place.

Isaac's head began to throb.

He recalled skulking the Maintenance Bay, being ambushed from practically all sides all the way to the second floor where he found the replacement databoard. Everything was like a bad, rank dream to him now. Had he really blacked out like that? Why so suddenly and why did his head hurt so? He shook his head, forcing the thoughts aside. He'd gotten the databoard, that's all that mattered now.

The engineer found himself just outside the Tram Control Room now. Judging from how he felt his RIG was probably in the yellow. His eyes were feeling heavier. Had he been this tired before? He entered the room and, upon doing so, he undid the plugs of the suit's helmet.

When he was able to do so, the headwear flew off and went wailing several feet across the room. He fell to his hands and knees. Isaac thought he was going to bawl, but instead, he began a furious episode of vomiting. He retched out what he'd had for lunch earlier that day. His heaving continued until it ran dry and he had nothing left in his stomach to offer. Tears riddled his eyes and mucus dribbled from his nose. He felt worse than awful and yet his venture was far from its conclusion.

Recovering, Clarke practically crawled to the waiting console, installing the newly presented databoard. The red display flashed a settling blue and the automated shutters of the windows, once more, reeled up. Outside, like a sign of safety, almost, were Hammond and Kendra still. The two of them hadn't realized he'd returned until the Tram system had been green lit from the control console.

'_Tram en route_', said the monitor. That all too familiar voice of the Ishimura came back to life to announce what was going on. "_Ship wide Tram system reinitialized_, a_ll Trams now operational_."

Like a train from centuries ago the transit came rolling up on its railing, sounds of friction being heard all the while. Both Hammond and Kendra watched its approach, and when they were out of view of Isaac they boarded.

"_Tram arriving at Flight Deck Station_. _Quarantine lifted_."

"Thank God for that much," Isaac muttered. A moment later a fresh video link popped up before him. It was Hammond.

"_All right, we're onboard and headed for the Bridge_._ Good work_."

Shortly thereafter Daniels invaded the screen making sure to say her piece. "_Strange, the quarantine just lifted_."

Clarke watched as the Tram moved away diminishing out of his sight with his comrades.

"_Whatever was in the Flight Lounge must have left. That's lucky for us_," Zach replied, then he turned his focus to the engineer. "_Isaac, get back to the Kellion and prep it for launch_. _We'll find out what we can from the Bridge and meet you there_."

Kendra came back, boasting her attitude. "_If we live that long_… _you're out of your league, Hammond_! _This is suicide we're going to die out there_!"

"_Your lack of confidence in me is dully noted, Ms. Daniels_," Hammond said, biting her head off in hot retort, "_but I have a mission to complete and that's exactly what I'm going to do with or without you. Do we understand each other_?"

For a moment's hesitation her eyes locked onto Isaac's. He could see the contempt for Hammond in them, and he was beyond certain Hammond himself could see it too. "_Just get us out of here alive_."

Silence made its triumphant return.

The man shrugged knowing all he _could_ do now was make his way to the Kellion and follow his explicitly given orders. He rifled a hand, shaky once more, through his buzzed hair as he hauled the helmet back up from the floor and returned it to his head. With this done he made a mad dash through the hall again, his heart pounding. A sharp expulsion of sparks serrated from behind him and he startled but he kept on going.

Now he was back at the room he'd found the Cutter. But it was all wrong here now. The light that had been steadfast during his initial visit to this part of the ship, though wavering, as now flickering with a strobe effect. The same could be said for the overhead light of the opposite elevator. Isaac brought the Cutter up and trudged over to it. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened a storage bin where a second small med pack and currency rested. Figuring they'd do no one else any good, he took them along the way not knowing how he'd missed them before.

He reentered the lift from before. "Here we go," he whispered, his voice as unsure as his body. His hand met with the activation panel, shutting the doors, and up he went toward the Flight Lounge.

When the doors slid open the engineer saw something moving in the far off hallway corner. Its form was disfigured and horrid. His breath grew shallow again and he brought up the tool-turned-weapon, its light slicing through the dark. Then the thing moved out of view. Damn, whimpered Isaac. He stalked after it.

When he reached the corner of the corridor he found the creature moving still, around the next bend. Isaac cursed again, under his breath, and he wandered further down the hall keeping his metallic, heavy boots as quiet as he could muster.

He found it at the top of the ramp ready to spring into the ventilation system. "Bastard!" he cried, and let a shot of Plasma singe through its back. It turned, marking him with its eyes and charged the man.

This time Clarke didn't panic. He simply kept the weapon steady, flicked a switch to alter its discharging orientation, and then let another blast plaster the bad boy over its legs. The force caused the creature to topple in mid sprint, flailing past Isaac into the wall. A vent busted behind him.

The engineer made a run for the Flight Lounge never looking back. He thought his heart would give out. He got the door to open then dashed inside. With the entrance shut behind him he never saw what was pursuing him, and for that he was thankful. Back in the Lounge was Isaac now, the blood remaining everywhere consisting of both Johnston and Chen's.

But amongst the deterring discord was a second saving grace to be had: one of their Pulse Rifles lay abandoned on the coated floor, a bloody hand print still applied to the handle. The sight of that made him shudder but he let the feeling of fear go. He pulled the military issue rifle up and inspected it. Rapid fire capability, long range accuracy, but only one clip of fifty rounds in place made him a tad leery. There were no more magazines for the rifle to be had. He decided to keep with the Cutter, conserving what Pulse rounds he had.

Using the magnetic capabilities of the suit he wore, he placed the rifle on the left of his RIG's back, opposite of the Stasis gauge. The powerful magnetic strips worked only with CEC particular metals used in the forging of tools, making the suit's magnetism unaffected by the other surrounding alloys.

Hammond got into contact with him informing him they'd made it to the Bridge claiming it as a 'Nightmare' with no survivors. Isaac was glad he wasn't there to see it. He felt relief wash over him as Zach told him they were aiming for the Command Computer.

Cutter drawn, face a rock slate of determination, Isaac wallowed first through the foyer and then down the long, wide walkway toward the pile that was the USG Kellion. Though not as severe as when they'd first landed, flames licked from its components, sparks signaling strain and moans of pinned metal wailing out. Fifty paces down the path and an amplified shriek was let loose. Falling from some unseen place overhead was another one of those tailed torsos.

"That fucking leaper again…" Isaac stuttered to say.

It came at him on its hands like the one before it. This time, however, the engineer had an idea. He threw his left hand out splashing the contents before him in permeable blue Stasis, including the beast. Its mad dash became an infant's crawl before him and he took the chance to unload four shots from the Cutter's clip into it. When the Stasis' effects wore off the thing was already drowning in lifelessness. Feeling victorious in the matter, Isaac hopped aboard the Kellion using its deployed ramp.

Its interior glowed and an ominous aura had strapped itself to the downed vessel. He was met by a display at the pilots' seats. The phrase 'LOAD?' was stretched across it. Isaac approached it reading 'Load Damage Report?' below a scaled image of the Kellion. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach he knew it was a bad idea. Look at what happened when you did it with the Ishimura, he contemplated. With no other alternatives, however, the man activated the protocol.

The word 'WARNING' overran the display. It became a fuzzy apparition within the gloomy glow of the fires outside the window. Something slithered over the front end of it; all while poor Isaac stepped cautiously back from the frontend. Then flames blew into his face, even beneath the visor. Everything had suddenly been overcome by yellowish orange, searing flames. A rumble rocked the small ship, Isaac slammed into its wall. A second, harsher jostling sent him through the one opening into the ships minute dining area. With a third booming Isaac seemed to gallop from the interior of the Kellion, flames clawing at his back all the way.

He made it outside just in time. The Kellion erupted in a gas fed rampage of flames. Napalm lobbed over the Ishimura's hangar every which way. As the small ship descended to the large floor below the runway another massive jolt of tension release sent Clarke back to his stomach.

His ears whined from momentary hearing loss and his body ached from the blowback of the ship's swan song of doom. In his peripheral, as he clumsily staggered to his feet, he saw movements in the dark. Several of them, three, no four, had come for him in response to the sudden surge of noise throughout the hangar.

Isaac knew the rifle would be a more fitting tool in this situation, but he just didn't have the time allotted. He stood his ground, Plasma Cutter blazing instead. He'd fire into the newfound crowd knocking one back into the other. One sprawled over the side of the walkway becoming acquainted with the Kellion's wreckage. One of them got too close, its spears snaring him in a sick lover's hold as it munched through the Kevlar some more. He forced it off, sending a jolt of power through its body as he swung blindly.

Two Plasma clips had been expended, and with them, four of the 'Slashers' (so he'd dubbed them), and a third 'Leaper'. Without looking at the meter on his right glove he knew his RIG Life Indicator was in the red now. He held himself in fear of any one of his parts falling off in the pain. With only one way left to pursue, Isaac, for a second time, made his way back to the Flight Lounge. But not before Hammond came up on his Video system, his voice dire.

"_What the hell is happening down there_?_ What happened to the shuttle_?"

Kendra was next, her voice saddened and her complexion troubled. "_That was our way home. It's the only way off this ship._"

Hammond tried to sooth the woman, stopping her from voicing their shared realization. It was in vain, however, as Kendra just pounced back on him. "_This changes everything!_"

"_Just let me think_," Zach stated, his frame moving sluggishly in the background of the holo-display, a hand applied to his jaw in visual thought. "_Can you access the Command Computer_?" the officer asked the woman.

Kendra tried it out finding an executive lockdown placed within the primary software. "_Without the captain's authorization I can't access them._" Her voice was trembling.

Hammond asked of the captain's whereabouts as Isaac reentered the Flight Lounge. Here he seated himself on one of the benches in the center of the lounge. A wavering hand still held the Cutter, a weakening breath seeping from behind the helmet. "Come on… come on," said the engineer to himself over and over.

Just then Kendra discovered the captain's location. "_Here he is_," she began, "_Captain Benjamin Matthius. Location: Med Lab—Status: Deceased._"

It was Hammond's turn to be snagged in distress. He demanded to know how this happened to come about, and without an answer he pushed the cap of crew leader back atop his head. It was time to really get to work, and so, Zach presented a solution.

"_Isaac, I'm sending the Tram back to your location. Get to the Medical Deck and find that RIG as fast as you can._"

Isaac shook his head, rising to his feet. Now he was feeling like a pawn. "Hammond, dammit, I can't just go this alone… Hammond!"

The two on the other end of the video feed fled as something obscured the display with its vulgar, decrepit body, its eviscerating growl overpowering the audio. Then the transmission fell dead with static. Isaac was concerned for them sure, but having this task unloaded onto him was a level well above irritating.

The man stomped and beat at the inside of the elevator he'd just boarded. "Shit, shit, shit!" He punched the walls till his knuckles were sore. Maybe it was the given situation, but he was practically in the process of a temper tantrum. Regardless he was ready, stocking up on several Plasma clips, a couple med packs, and a few thousand Credits along the way. The lift opened to the Tram station he'd seen the two of them at only minutes before.

He stood there for a long time, his thoughts of Kendra and that son of a bitch Hammond draining away to worried thoughts of Nicole. With everything that had transpired all Clarke could do was hope and pray she was still thriving somewhere aboard this damned vessel.

Already the Tram was waiting for him. To his right sat a familiar, yet older styled CEC Store. With the credits he'd accumulated and his employee discount he was certain the store had a trade up suit wise.

A shivering hand went over the breast of his suit directly over where the petite lump that was the engagement ring still existed. He rubbed it for a while feeling the possibility of presenting this to his love, let alone finding her, slipping away into the uncertain oblivion that awaited all survivors on the Ishimura.

There was no help coming. He was trapped, cut off, and in a desperate fight for survival.

Alone now Clarke stood at Hell's maw. Somewhere unknown was his love, somewhere else were his crewmates. And all around him was imminent death.


	3. Chapter 3: Vasovagal Reaction

Dead Space

Chapter Three: **V**asovagal Reaction

With so many years of service under the CEC Isaac was able to purchase a low end mining suit commonly called the 'Level Two' for only ten-thousand credits, half its usual cost, in fact.

Manufactured by the same relentless branch of the CEC both engineer's and miner's suits shared several similarities in both aspects of design and performance. Regardless, his armor was now more durable, covering a good forty percent of his body. The visor, which had first been the size of an outstretched hand, was now two strategically placed slits. These two slits' size aided in the evasion of decompression due to unexpected impacts during outer space treks.

Even a few days ago Isaac was an owner of the modern engineer 'Level Five' suit. Unfortunately enough, a job back in the Andromeda system on an EarthGov satellite cost him the suit. A dislodged Relay beam caused one of the satellite's personal gravity tethers to go haywire flinging the unguarded engineer into the path of another orbiting satellite. In the end a job that should have cost no more than a routine fifty-thousand now closed in on the million credit mark. Clarke wound up being saved by that same suit, entirely unharmed even. The 'Five' on the other hand was deemed a lost cause, unsalvageable by the insurance bureau.

With the sudden ignition of the Ishimura repair squad he'd volunteered for, Nicole being the key factor of that decision, he had to succumb in using a standard issue 'Level One'…

Isaac Clarke sat palsied on the cushy bench of the speeding Tram car rubbing both cranial temples with his pointer and middle fingers. A headache had washed over him from out of the blue. At first he'd thought it was the shock he'd experienced, the horrors he'd seen. Now he knew those weren't the cause. And just before the Tram came to a stop at the Medical deck he thought he was hearing wispy voices run amuck from everywhere and nowhere.

The shutter like door of the car swooshed open signaling to the man it was time to replace the helmet over his head. With it locked in place he exited the transit machine and found himself at a station identical to the one he'd just left. He remembered now they were all constructed the same with only minor differences amongst them. But this particular station was different for other, more unnatural reasons. Behind the row of glass where the station's seats sat no longer held the impatient forms of crewmates going over numbers and talking to one another about the menial shared tasks. Body bags, swathed in blood, littered the floor of this station now. The idea of bustling employees now a disintegrated afterthought, a real voice caught both Isaac's attention and his surprise. It sounded like someone shushing.

Flabbergasted to say the least, the engineer rushed over to the origin of the voice. A survivor—cried his brain, his heart. Another survivor was here! The joys of the moment passed when he came to the person; a woman. Her medical uniform was bathed in crimson fluid. Whether it was her own or others he never determined. She was riddled with lacerations and bruises too. Her eye, the other shrouded by a stained bandage, was forever encircled by the black smudges of washed out eye shadow. The most disturbing thing, however, was the fact she was ever so gently stroking the decapitated body of a fellow crew member.

Isaac knelt down beside her. "Hey, hey, can you hear me? Are you all right? Do you think you can walk?"

He was met with the emptiest eye he'd ever seen. There was absolutely no soul to be had within it.

His jaw shivered for a second behind the visor. He couldn't really blame her for the state she now was in. Especially not after the things he had seen in only a couple hours' time. But still he tried cajoling even a single word from the woman. "Can you tell me what happened here? Just what _is_ going on in this ship?"

She made a grimacing smile, as sick and twisted as the petting motions she made over the bloody torso that lay on the other side of her. She shook her head, new tears spewing out. "It's all right, McCoy, he's here. There's nothing to be afraid of." She looked now only at the stubby remains, slight maniacal laughter uttering from her lungs. Then she raised her head to him, that same lifeless eye resting over the engineer. "I knew you would come, just like you said. I—I saved this… for you."

From the woman's hand, her pinky finger dangling from the rest of her hand at a wrong angle, she offered a small block. The obvious electronic device fell and clattered over the hard floor like plastic. She flopped to the floor then, muttering other incomprehensible nonsense when her blood coated head went to the side. Isaac saw that what little life she had at that point had all but left her.

He plucked the tiny thing from the floor as he stood upright. He knew what it was and he knew what to do with it. It locked neatly into place atop the Stasis Module giving off a click. Nowadays this device allowed a single man to perform tasks once only capable through the means of heavy machinery. It came to be known as Kinesis. Isaac had used it plenty of times in his days up to that point.

Clarke sighed giving the deceased woman a final glance before going about his own business. Seeing his only possible path blocked by crates that were serving as a barricade, no doubt, he flung them from where they sat in a couple easy motions with the newfound Kinesis Module, a ball and chain like effect of static energy spurting from his palm.

He clenched his teeth tightly breathing through them rather than his nose. Even through his helmet the stench of drying remains reeked to such insurmountable levels. Stains of the bodily fluid covered any possible surface it could. It was obvious to him that someone or several individuals had been dragged down this stretch of well lit corridor. From the spattered marks it was obvious, too, that they struggled to the very end. Like something metallic and hollow falling down steps, a sound rattled somewhere above him in the ceiling. Isaac ignored it, pressing on like he always did.

The 'Finger Lock' door opened to a hub like room where several doors went their own ways. Paneling of the very floor had been stripped and left where it had been tossed. The others that were missing had found their way to the door leading to the Ishimura's Clinic. A sturdy, well constructed barricade, with a peephole included, had blocked its entrance. This hub room also was a mess. Undoubtedly, gallons of blood slathered both the walls and the floor. Somehow, somewhere in the room, even flies could be heard reaping the benefits of the dead. Then the RIG of Isaac's came to life, crackling with an incoming video transmission. It was Hammond. Though the engineer wasn't too happy with the mission the officer had laid over his shoulders it was nice to see a face and hear a (sane) voice.

The bare scalped face on the other end asked if he was there, seeing the link connect he dove into rushed talking. "We were attacked, Kendra's gone. One minute she was there and—I can't believe I lost her!"

Silence seeped its way in with Clarke swaying his head and Zach almost looking to be forgiven.

"You shouldn't have separated," said the engineer.

"I know," Hammond replied, Isaac comforted by the fact he could be heard again.

"We need her to get the hell out of here!"

"I know!" Zach's voice rose to rival Isaac's. The short breathed men came to terms in mutual nods of the head and continued onward for a solution. As usual Hammond was first.

"We can still do this. Get me the captain's RIG codes and _we'll find _Nicole. Looks like the crew barricaded the door to the Emergency Wing. You'll have to blow through it to get to the Morgue. Get some Thermite from Medical Storage and a Shock Pad from Zero-G Therapy…should be down the corridor."

More instructions, thought Isaac's already aching brain. It was time he and the officer had a talk about this. "Hammond," he started. A spout of searing static came flowing in through the feed the most ripest of times cutting off any further exchange of words. "Hammond, I'm not one of your damn lackeys!"

The line went down again and out of frustration the man drove a powerful fist into the door of a locker bowing it in. He knew if this path led to his lover it was well worth it, but in the end that did little to alleviate the irritation making him boil. Amidst his shuddering breaths a small beep blew in his ear indicating coordinates had been downloaded to his RIG. At least Hammond was that adept. With a final, longwinded sigh, Isaac followed his Locator through a nearby door where he was met by more flickering lights.

Silhouettes of bodies at the far end of the hall made him skittish. One of _them_ could be amongst the human wreckage. The three-pronged sights of the Cutter stabbed at the wavering darkness shedding some security over the man. Cautiously he trudged past the first pile of mangled corpses then past another pack around a turn. Thuds from a second malfunctioning door filled his hearing and he came to find it at the end of the bending corridor. A splash of Stasis allowed him passage and he came to the depths of the Main Medical Lab.

The engineer was met by a room that at first appeared untouched by the plague. His shard of hope vanished when scattered papers filled his gaze. Even if there was no blood to be seen yet, he knew the worst had happened here as well. White light swept over the large, double deck room from the fluorescent-like overhanging. Isaac skulked over a walkway, his eyes overlooking the bowels of the room. Desks and bolted down tables alike littered the floor when he heard a loud security door latch. He knew the sound all too well.

"Not now…" he breathed. Son of a bitch, he thought, not in a room this size.

As if by order, the lights went down overcome by red sirens, an alarm accompanying the mix. The female AI of the Ishimura came to life. "Hazardous anomaly detected. Quarantine activated."

"Screw this," Isaac declared. He let the Cutter clamp at his right thigh and yanked the rifle from his back. "Shit," he whimpered. It still only had fifty rounds. He'd forgotten to grab more at the store when he'd had the chance. This'll have to do, his brain told his shivering hands. He brought the rapid-fire weapon up ready to strike, his back stuck in a corner.

Seemingly on cue, one of the beasts came careening from an overhead vent right before the man letting loose with its nasty snarling. He swung out delivering a mighty blow throughout its rotting body. Then the Pulse blasts ripped into it without mercy, without a second thought. Grimy bits leapt to the air and chunks of meat flopped over the railing of the walkway. In a matter of seconds his attacker was down for the count. But when one fell two took its place. One on the far side with a second charging him in full sprint.

Clarke's suit was slow to react but somehow he managed to clamor out of its line. It hit the wall hard, fazed in the least, and it started at him yet again, its boney blade grinding through the metal paneling of the wall as it did so. Some well connected Pulse blasts de-limbed its legs and he used his newfound Kinesis Module to hurl the fiend into the other one knocking it back without an ounce of remorse. Then he caught the glimpse of another blade coming over his left shoulder from behind.

His turning was too slow and he was trapped in a gruesome embrace. Like before the thing tried at the muscles in his neck. Luckily, with the more rigid shell of this armor, he hardly felt its fangs and he smacked it away with a solid back swipe with his weapon holding arm. It toppled over the railing and plummeted to the floor waiting far below. Due to the head pounding alarm, however, Isaac never heard it land.

He fell to his hands and knees to allow a moment to catch his breath. There weren't any coming around now, yet disturbingly the lockdown still held. He propped himself up with the gun and knew, regardless of how much he wished to fight the truth, why it had yet to end. He peered leeringly over the railing. There are more down there, he thought. He squeezed his eyes shut to ward the sweat from his eyes as he stumbled to the waiting lift. Recognizing the hand of the CEC employee the lift descended.

Isaac's mouth was dry. He was sucking breath in too harshly through it. When the lift stopped he took a step and was met by one of them dragging itself around with its elongated arms. He stomped its lights out cursing at the top of his lungs. Then he was slammed into the wall by another one making him drop the rifle.

The engineer went wild arching arm after arm out in mighty swings. When two landed on his adversary it let out a rough gurgle. Soon thereafter its actions ceased altogether.

The lockdown was still implemented as he recovered the lost firearm. He replaced it on his back and brought up the Cutter. He headed away from the lift on nervous legs and he staggered toward the restrooms on the opposite side of the lab. This was where he found his last victim. It came slithering from around a doorframe on its arms like the other one had done. Obviously some time ago someone had dislodged its legs. Their eyes intertwined, those of the survivor and the horror show, until a shot from the Plasma Cutter sheared its head off and the rest of its body went slack in response.

In reply, the lights returned their full brilliance. "Quarantine lifted," said the vessel's voice. Clarke wasted little time in prying the helmet from his skull. He pulled up an audio log, and upon relaying it, discovered a fitting term for these freaks of nature: 'Necromorphs'. Isaac shut the replay off and the feed ended abruptly.

Every inch of his head was drenched in sweat as cold as ice now. It was good to breathe without the obstruction of the helmet. He wanted to vomit again but his gut refused his mind and he managed to hold it in. He entered a room then, most likely one of the lab's offices, where he found a misplaced video log beside a scarred desk. As the man began playing it back over his RIG he took a quick, curious glance over the bookshelves. None of the presented texts were of interest to him, so his eyes met with the video instead. Then he sat on the desk making it buckle under the armor's weight.

Over the feed two men could be seen, mostly likely captured by the office's camera. One was the captain standing in a rigid and formal pose opposite a man in scientific garments.

"What in God's name is going on down there?" asked a hurried voice. The man still maintained a professional profile about him.

"I think that's precisely the point, doctor, God's work," replied captain Matthius.

The doctor paced to and fro in the video, his voice a weakened one now. "I'm not so sure of that… we have to assume that the colony's problems are somehow connected to the Marker."

"You can assume all you want to," retorted Matthius. "I do not. The Marker is glorious and divine you—you know that."

Isaac Clarke sat like a sculpture watching as the two discussed the universe's flourishing religion of Unitology somehow making its way into the mix of things. It always did in some way. Because of his mother's witless relationship with the belief he despised the religion with unending passion. The _last_ thing the engineer wanted as any involvement with it.

When the doctor mentioned the colonists on Aegis killing one another in sporadic outbursts Isaac began fitting together the pieces of the puzzle. The Marker, the killings, the creatures—all obviously pointed to one particular factor: Unitology. Whatever had come over the colonists had somehow eked its way aboard the Ishimura. Was it a virus, though? Perhaps an alien life form never before witnessed? Maybe it was a combination, he suggested to himself. Isaac shrugged at the thought, dismounting the desk and ended the video feed.

Through his Locator he exited the office and entered another one following the sliver width beam past dried blood and more shreds of paper. In only a few moments he found himself in a dim hall with what looked to be a chamber at the far end. He halted mid step and brought the stuffy helmet back over himself. He blew out a sigh, the blue visor slits igniting the blackness of the halls. Then he jogged to the chamber where his heart nearly jumped from his ribcage.

Inside was a survivor with sweat, like panic, overwhelming him. His eyes were hellish with their awareness and he wasted no time in pounding on the glass as if to get out that way. Isaac played host to a bloodbath. He watched helplessly as something inhuman slinked over the wall behind the stranger. Something came seething from its back, tendrils came to the Isaac's mind, and it pulled back like a spitting viper.

Clarke motioned for the man to move out of the way but he was blinded with fear.

"Come on, come on! Let me out!" the man screamed. In an instant blood and gore matted the pane of glass where the man's left hand had been. He retched forth a long 'No' dipped in pure agony.

Isaac attempted a shot at the tiny thing with the Cutter through the glass only to find it impervious to ballistics. A horrible tremble ran through him when he realized he couldn't do a single thing to help the victim. The display on the door he could see through the glass remained on standby unwilling to unlock.

Through sheer instinct his hands guarded himself as the man's head rained blood and flesh everywhere when it was ran through by a spine-like object. Disgusted, disturbed, Clarke followed the nightmare until it relieved itself from view inside the chamber. The body slumped against the glass and fell to the floor. The engineer was left to his shallow intake of air and reality. If this was some sort of fate's sick joke he was far from laughing. In the end he knew there was only one way to go to get the Thermite he needed, and so his feet whisked him to the door whose display still read: 'Standby'.

Using his know-how, Clarke brought up a holographic keypad which he used to hack the door. Moments later the symbol altered from 'Standby' to 'Unlocked'. He then slid his hand over it, closing the keypad and initiating the opening sequence all in one move. When the motors pulled the door back the strong odor of chemically enhanced formaldehyde overtook his nose. Everything was painted in an eerie, translucent green.

The engineer took a quick survey of the damage to this area alone. Canisters on both tables and installations in the walls had been forcibly smashed open, from the inside or outside was difficult to tell, and had relinquished the foul chemicals all over. He gave the still body another look too. A man who once had a family never to see them again; a man with a past who's existence came to an unjust end in the metal room of a damned Planetcracker vessel. For whatever purpose, Clarke almost wanted to say sorry. He turned his focus back toward another waiting lift when he was jumped.

The wad of flesh had him from his chest to his facemask. Suddenly he felt three different things claw into his back though the ensuing pain felt like one broad inflammation. The man could literally feel the indicator on his RIG lowering. He reached out anywhere and yanked at what he could to pry the thing from his person. After seconds that felt like minutes he won the bout of brute strength and tore the menace from him. He slapped it to the metal grated flooring and was horrified.

A better look now showed the thing had once been an infant… now mutated, disfigured and alarming in appearance, it held no tangible sense of humanity to it. It crawled on all fours like a toddler would, no, like a _lurker_ would, and a flap in its decaying back revealed three tentacles made up of petite intestines. On each end of these appendages were boney knobs that opened like mouths where the barbs he'd seen skewer the man protruded from. Isaac could have screamed but his mouth wouldn't convey the sound for it.

The lurker tried for the shocked man again but instinct had him throw it back down instantaneously. Before it rose a second time he let a couple rounds from the Plasma Cutter slice into it. Its head went two ways and one of its odd tentacles lay writhing on the floor. It squealed then, much like a swine would only amplified, and it attempted to drag what it had left away from him. Before it had much of a chance a heavy boot was brought down over it and thick, black blood oozed out like a bouquet of hoses.

Isaac collected himself. No one, _no thing_ was safe from whatever this plague was. He knew he'd found his way to the Bio Lab, but altogether he refused to let what happened sink in. Even when he'd been stationed here years before he never ventured to this place for this sole reason. A couple hundred years ago the controversy of Stem Cell usage in the medical field was done away allowing advancements in the healing of both disorders and diseases. People, whom, in the twentieth century were dying at the age of fifty from cancer, were nowadays living well into their hundreds thanks to both Stem Cell and Stasis treatments. All that was needed was a fresh supply of embryonic matter. Here, on the Ishimura, was a personal stock for its inhabitants. The mere thought made the man shudder.

Regaining a decent composure, he used the open elevator to reach the second floor of the chamber. Here, in the ever present capsules, were even more infants kept in a perpetual state for lone medical benefits. Isaac shut his eyes and went on thinking only of Nicole and how he knew she needed him as he did her. If he had to go through here to find her he most certainly would.

From his right, then, a window of glass exploded as a second one of the small Necromorphs came leaping out on all haunches. Its squeal peeled back the nasty lips it had. Clarke pulled the trigger of the Cutter only to hear a hollow click. By God, the gauge read empty. Hurriedly he undid the Plasma clip and he went for another one backing up as he did so. His left hand went for his stash of ammunition but instead was run through with one of the ghoul's pitch-black barbs. Pain, like hot lead, shot up his arm and through every finger. The thing had somehow even pierced his metal glove.

He grimaced, replacing the Plasma, and blasted the lurker away in three shots. He kicked it aside as he strode toward a door on the other side of the room. A third one of them came to stop him just before the door where he stomped it out of its misery as well. Panting, a tear of pain trickling from his grimaced eye, he forcibly withdrew the barb from the back of his hand pulling scraps of wasted Kevlar and skin with it.

"Bastard," he sighed, surrendering to the pangs of discomfort. He hastily shook his hand as he readied a small med pack. Upon using it the pain subsided and he watched as the lost skin was replaced and the fresh flowing blood stopped. Nanotechnology was quite a thing to behold, indeed.

With this done Isaac plodded through a couple 'Finger Lock' doors and came to yet another office. With its seclusion from the rest of the lab it was obvious whomever's workplace this had been was more of an 'elite' figurehead. He shook his head, thoughts like that didn't matter in this type of situation. Then he saw what he was after. Neatly nested on the island desk of the office was the necessary Thermite locked away inside a red canister, protected by an outer layer of white guarding, and waiting to be taken. Small warning labels riddled it like polka dots. The man pillaged it with little thought.

He took a last look at the disheveled room. There was little to no chance any other soul would find their way here. Then Hammond came on over his audio. He must have seen through the visual feed from Isaac's helmet cam that he'd acquired the material. The voice now instructed him to pursue a Shock Pad from Therapy and use it to ignite the Thermite on the barricade. As they exchanged words Clarke stalked back to the Main Lab.

"Hammond, I need a minute, here. I'm not too happy with you unloading this shit onto me."

A crackle of static ruptured from the other end before the security officer replied back. "Isaac, I'm sorry, really, but nows not the time." His voice was becoming muter with every spoken word and right after his last pronunciation the line went out. He would certainly sock him in the face next time he saw the man.

"Course it's not the time," Isaac chided to himself. He used another dose of Stasis on the haywire door in the Main Lab and made his way through. "It's never the time when _I'm_ in the mood to say something."

Maybe that was why Nicole had grown so stern with him. He admitted he could use a boost when it came to communication. He slid his gloved fingers over the breast of his suit again in methodical fashion. Where could she be? his brain thought once more. It had become a broken record it seemed. Caught adrift in his thoughts he never heard the sick gurgles of the Necromorph couple creeping from around the corner of the dark hall; never saw them until—

The nearest one snagged him by the shoulders and he wrestled with it while the second arched down scraping at his armor where his Stasis meter was. He could almost feel the gouge in the metal pour through his suit. Finally, he broke from the hold and smashed the one's head in, its tiny, abdominal arms flailing in all directions in frenzy. The second lunged for him and he met it with a blast of hot Plasma. Its blood claimed the wall and floor as its own as its limbs came undone. At last Clarke returned his infuriated glare on the first slasher. He drilled it to the opposite wall and unloaded several shots from the Cutter into its grotesque body. It flopped to the floor as lifeless as it should have been in the first place.

Isaac gave himself a look over before proceeding. The rifle was on his back, the Cutter in his dominant hand, and the Thermite dangled from his left thigh. Then he was back in the Security Station. At the store he'd bypassed earlier he dropped off the chemical agent into his personal CEC Safe where employees could collect items such as currency or ammunition for later use. Afterwards he followed his Locator into the Imaging Diagnostics Wing just on the other side of the Ishimura's store.

The light from the engineer's raised firearm plastered a welcome poster. The image of a delighted individual in medical garb took up half of it. He nearly chuckled; the satirical juxtaposition was just too much. That aside, he strode carefully through the bending black of the hall. His footfalls, even at such a slow pace, were loud enough to cause panic in itself. When he reached a tight ninety-degree turn sparks spat down at him from overhead making him flinch. The quicker he found himself under light the better.

From the shadows came a thud. Unlike Isaac's thick, heavy boots, this particular, repeating thud was fleshy in sound. It came again… then again. At then end of the corridor was a straining light illuminating something—Clarke squinted in hard focus down at the doorway far past the reach of the blue from his visor. There, though not entirely clear, was yet another survivor. He made a mad dash for them.

"Hey!" he cried. Maybe he could save this one, not that they were in danger. He just couldn't make out what they were doing. "Hey!" he shouted again. He was halfway through the opened door.

The person, a man saturated in blood turning his white outfit crimson, was standing propped against the wall where his head met its metal surface time after time. This had been the thud he'd heard. The man had, without any inch of doubt, gone incomprehensibly insane to the point of killing himself. For how long he'd been doing this, Isaac didn't know. But where his head met the wall a slick layer of drying fluid ran down and the front of his head was fractured.

The engineer didn't know how to react at first. Stunned and aghast he did the first thing he knew to. He reached for the man. "Cut it out!" His gloved hand barely managed to make contact.

One last, very pronounced smash brought the odd man to his knees in defeat. He crumpled in the cold, unforgiving hands of death. Isaac saw the state the man's body was in not knowing how he'd be alive even up to that point. Large splotches of skin had been ripped away revealing inner workings and ribs. Brain matter, too, littered the scene.

Something broke in Isaac Clarke then. His back met with another wall and he slid to his rear where he began to sob. The crying was muffled by his helmet and he was sure Hammond and even Kendra, granted her living, could hear his pitiful blubbering over the audio, though he didn't care in the least. The hopelessness of their situation, the weight of the mission had all come collapsing over him in one instant. Most men in this state would have wept for their mother—her warm, tender embrace they knew as a child. Isaac was different, however, an outcast even within a fit of bawling. He was void of that love of his mother.

He wept for Nicole.

Inches from the remains of a poor sap, in the sanctity of the hallway, Clarke held himself because no one else could. After minutes of fumbling he was able to bring forth the engagement ring out from under his suit. The stone on it glistened even in this terrible lighting. He held it for a long time between his thumb and pointer finger focusing intently on that one object alone. Just the thought of giving her this one thing pushed him onward. He needed to find her before things around him, or _in him_ for that matter, got any worse.

His attention shifted into the blackness of the hall where he heard more of _them_ shuffling over the floor, no doubt in his direction.

Isaac brought himself to his senses, gulping down the last of his cries, and he went on his way deeper into the devil's playground.


End file.
